


Leather and Lavender

by SoraMJigen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bottom John, Boyfriends, Candles, Fucking, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Homosexuality, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Mrs. Hudson Ships It, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Relationship(s), Riding Crops, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Sherlock Loves John, Sherlock is a Sex God, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4276263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoraMJigen/pseuds/SoraMJigen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oneshot. Sherlock decides to bring something new to the bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leather and Lavender

John had walked into the flat only to be faced with a room full of lit candles.

Examining the dimly shaded room, the scent of vanilla and lavender wafted through the air. The distinct perfumes merged together as John deeply inhaled them, as though he were about to submerge himself in the sea. Dusty hazel eyes examined the room, as though searching for a ghost that was nowhere to be found. Yet he had seen this scene before many times in the media and in his relationship with Sherlock. Smirking softly, he knew Sherlock had something up his sleeve. He immediately had a notion of what it was, knowing how obvious the flat glowed like faint stars in the dark. Knowing what Sherlock could possibly want, John’s smirked broadened; he would not hesitate to give his partner what he so desired.

Sherlock and John had been together for months now. They were drawn to each other by how the world molded them from birth to present and to this day, they grew in learning about each other. When they decided to take their relationship to third base, they knew they would be engaging in a different game. A different type of game that they hadn’t encountered before and with every time they played, the more they knew about each other and the closer they became. Of weak spots, of turn ons, of long groans and gasps of shock, and other endearing features. Passion culminated from the love they shared and only heightened the mood to make their first time, if not many more times, wondrous and warm.

Tonight, if John knew Sherlock, would lead to that same warm feeling that resonated with him even after the deed was done. Knowing this, John’s smirk grew soft and the man swore he felt his heart skip a few beats. The faint glow before John sent minor details of the flat into darkness, shadows swirling at his feet like a dark fog. The deer head stood high above the glow, the candlelight illuminating the taxidermy’s eyes and causing them to shimmer rather hauntingly as though a spirit was trapped inside. The smiley face seemed a much bolder shade as its inanimate eyes watched John and his eyes roll to the mantle. Candle light reflected in the mirror and made the skull smile, Sherlock’s old friend, watching the world through eyeless sockets. 

In the window rested a rather tall figure with dark curls and John’s smirked crumbled into a soft smile. The candlelight fell upon his features slightly, though John could tell that silhouette from anywhere. A cobalt robe rested on his frame as though it was made for him. John loved that robe because it matched his stern blue eyes.

“Sherlock?” John called him softly and not once did the figure budge, adding to the man’s mysterious nature. He always was a drama queen.

“Do you know what those scents are used for, John?” Only now did he turn and his eyes were alive with the burning embers just within his reach. The shadows seemed to reel from his eyes, those powerful orbs with such a strong stare. John was never scared of Sherlock’s stony blue eyes, for he had stared into death’s unforgettable eyes during the Afghanistan war. The detective’s eyes were a blessing when compared to the orbs he had seen before of war ravaged warriors, traumatized men, and shell shocked soldiers.

Recalling his question, John watched his handsome partner with bated breath and shook his head. Sherlock smiled and John’s body relaxed, waiting for him to answer with his stoic but cool tone. His pupils grew from the combination of the scented air and the sight of his boyfriend standing before him in that cobalt robe. He was never too fond of the robe, but sometimes Sherlock wore nothing but that robe, and John unwrapped it some days with an insatiable hunger or a slow, tender invitation. It became a sign between the two of them that the robe meant something other than comfort and warm. Rather, it became an invitation to unravel some sexual activity.

“In a case study, men were given various scents to sniff. Scientists took note of which scents had easily aroused men the most. Lavender, vanilla, and pumpkin spice were among the top scents to trigger some sort of sexual arousal in the participants.” 

“Oh.” John’s mind sparked at this sudden information, understanding how the scented candles aided to what Sherlock wanted. John smiled at himself, knowing that he could read his boyfriend, a man that was normally difficult to read. In acknowledging this, he knew he had accomplished a feat that no one had dared managed to achieve and reveled in this personal victory.

The sound of slippers softly thudded on the floor as John’s stared at Sherlock, now leading himself through the darkness. Shadows guided him, the dark fog rolling at his thighs and downward as though trying to swallow him. John’s aroused eyes never left his partner, the candlelight highlighting his cheekbones. Those cheekbones were so sharp that they left a cut on John’s knuckles like a paperclip many days ago. Adler had caught onto their game, knowing that John loved him so dearly as to avoid Sherlock’s teeth and nose. But John would never admit that she was right to her face and would only grumble that she was beneath his breath out of hearing range. 

Light shined upon his pristine blue orbs and John swallowed hard, that intense stare meeting with his own hungered look. He could feel Sherlock’s eyes penetrating his soul as they had done many times before and his heart thrummed wildly at the sensation. Such an invigorating rush, those eyes never left John nor did he want them to. Now John was sure that his heart pounded rapidly, its beat reverberating throughout the room. If Sherlock had heard it, John wouldn’t care – both knew that their hearts could beat rather loudly in times of need and carnal pleasure. The candles’ glow shined along those dark curls, hanging above his pale flesh. Sherlock’s skin was rather cold, as though the man was December’s child. When winter did emerge, John swore the man’s body grew colder as though blending in with the season, and would be needed to be warmed by any means necessary. John had run his lips and hands over that tender skin time and time again. To do so again would be a pleasure and privilege rolled into yet another opportunity that he would treasure until his dying day.

The darkness had absolved itself from Sherlock’s face as John watched his partner. Swallowing hard, he swore he forgot how to breathe, as though Sherlock was stealing every inch of air from within the room. John let him take it, his mind and body only focusing on the man before him. Their eyes locked and the curve of Sherlock’s upper lip gave way to a smirk; John hadn’t noticed never breaking their stare with his aroused eyes.

“Clearly.” Sherlock’s smooth voice sending shivers down John’s back, causing the shorter man to take a breath of air. Hairs rose on John’s frame as Sherlock watched with satisfaction. He had John where he wanted him, wriggling on the end of Sherlock’s actions like a fish on a hook. There was something about seeing John at his mercy that made him feel satisfied to a degree that not even he could fathom. 

“They seem to be affecting you.” Sherlock spoke once more in that tone and John melted into his arms as the dark haired man kissed him. Those tender lips were rough as they tightly pressed to John’s mouth. John’s fingers regained their composure and walked up Sherlock’s arms, burying themselves into Sherlock’s dark hair and the detective moaned quietly. Sherlock gripped John’s hips and slowly stroked them, feeling that irritating sweater. Easily slipping his hands beneath the cloth, Sherlock’s fingertips caressed the hidden flesh once more and John groaned, biting on Sherlock’s lip.

Both men had a penchant for pain. They were still testing each other’s waters, pushing each other to see how far they could go and withstand the pain they dealt. Sherlock growled at John’s bite as he pulled the man closely and raked his nails down his partner’s spine. John snarled in pleasure and Sherlock grinned against his lips. Pulling away, he locked eyes with John’s smoldering orbs like a dusty antique that had been polished. Keeping his sly grin, he ran his fingers to John’s wrist. He swore his grin widened at the feel of his beloved’s heart beating wildly like tribal drums shrieking into a vast jungle. John never broke contact with him, not even when the shorter man pulled him eagerly into the hallway and up to their room. Sherlock allowed him to lead, knowing what John would see.

He was pleased to see John was eager and even more so pleased that his candles worked. Sherlock swore that his boyfriend’s pulsed raced through his body upon reaching their bedroom. Their pulses melded together, becoming one as John looked around their candlelit bedroom. That scent of lavender and vanilla overcoming his senses and he turned fiercely, kissing Sherlock hard. Sherlock groaned, pushing his partner onto the bed and did not hesitate in ripping off his clothes, revealing the man’s body and his slight erection hidden beneath those irritating boxers. John arched his back, surprised at Sherlock’s sudden rash tearing and invited the man to savor his body just as he would his. Sherlock grinned, the candlelight lighting up his expression, dazzling his eyes and making John’s heart forget how to pound. Sherlock’s pale fingers traced along his partner’s jaw line slowly, examining his body with his eyes and hands. Those tips stretched down his neck like a serial killer about to strangle a victim and John locked eyes with Sherlock, knowing how well the man enjoyed foreplay. He believed it to be the build up to better climaxes, a much stronger orgasm, and to see how and what made John tick. Those fingertips worked their way to the collar bone and walked along his chest, over the tender sternum, the somewhat chub of his stomach, and stopped at the merging flesh of his penis and abdomen.

“Sherlock…” John breathed harshly, gasping for air as his body relaxed with every touch the man had bestowed upon him.

“Rise for me, John and kneel.”

John obeyed Sherlock’s orders without abandon and kneeled on the bed, his lips trembling in need for a kiss from his darling. His whole body seemed in tune with every move that Sherlock moved and in nothing this, Sherlock knew that their sexual venture would be much more satisfying than what he had anticipated. John was hungry for Sherlock and knew that he could easily tear into his partner like a bear through a salmon. His eyes were widened with need and his body quivered, waiting to be ordered by Sherlock’s voice. No order was given, but rather Sherlock planted a rather firm kiss onto the man’s lips as he slipped his hand into the pocket of his robe. His tongue battled with John’s, seeking dominance, but he knew John wasn’t the type to surrender. He hadn’t in the war, so why would he now?

A soft clink broke John’s concentration on the kiss. Flexing his wrists, he found his hands to be constricted by cold metal that tore through his skin, sending chills through his body. Handcuffs were no stranger to either men having been placed in them before and having used them in the bedroom on countless occasions. John growled, like an animal that had just been caged and Sherlock’s grin faded to a smirk. Pulling away, he looked into his lover’s satiated eyes and spoke in that smooth tone again.

“Oh hush, you’ll enjoy what I have planned for tonight.”

“What have you got planned tonight?” John was always interested in what Sherlock had in mind and Sherlock was the same for whenever John wanted to try something new. Breaking from his presence, Sherlock sauntered over to his dimly lit bureau and felt a long strand of firm leather in his hand. He had been familiar with this before when using it in cases, but never once did he use it on a living soul, especially John. However, he had taken into countless hours of research to ensure that he was going to use it properly, knowing the severe damages that could come from using this tool wrongly. He knew he would never hurt John in a way he didn’t like and so, caution would heavily be exercised in this new venue.

Turning on his heel, the candlelight exposed this instrument and John swallowed hard. The hungered beast still present in his eyes, he growled, the animal knowing what would occur. Surprise consumed his mind, never before had he realized Sherlock would use tools before like this in the bedroom. The men had experimented with numerous objects before, but this was new and different and it thrilled John. His heart thrummed in excitement as he watched his partner brandish the item like a fine wine in a wealthy restaurant.

“We’ll start with the riding crop.”

“Sherlock, I thought you couldn’t take home any of the lab equipment.”

“Who said it was theirs?” Eyeing the riding crop, Sherlock felt the familiar grip in his hand. Only he had used this and no one else. However, he made sure to sanitize it prior to this evening – the idea of dead skin flakes touching John’s body made his mind reel in disgust. Focusing on his partner, he watched as John’s eyes never left the riding crop as he wondered everything that could and would be done with it.

“Sometimes, I use my own equipment in the lab. Molly and everyone else are fine with it, as long as it aids to the case.” 

John nodded, waiting for Sherlock to tame his inner animal now and watched Sherlock as his fingers stroked the worn leather. 

“Now John, you must promise me something.”

“What is it?”

Sherlock walked from his bureau to his handcuffed partner, the sound of his slippers struck the floor. Each step more painstakingly slow than the last, as John swallowed hard. With every step, John’s heart started to strum faster and faster as though it would explode from his chest. John’s cheeks were reddened from the mere arousal of it all and the idea that Sherlock was throwing a riding crop into their nightly escapades. John had seen this tool used once or twice in pornography when he was a young teenager and thought it was a wonderful notion. To be tied down by some lover or stranger and held prisoner to their devices and being helpless to their antics. But the war had calmed that fantasy, having seen what had happened to those taken as hostages; tied up and tortured, disfigured and murdered. Years had passed since the war and only now and then, John would flip through the Internet and find such lewd, crude photographs of partners binding each other n whatever they could find. Leather, cloth, silk, anything that could be suitable for the sexy situation. It aroused him from time to time and now, with his stiff dick protruding from his body, John knew that urge was coming forth once more, much stronger than ever. Sherlock reached the bedside and John’s internal, carnal beast swirled in his eyes, screaming to be dominated. He could easily do that and in knowing this, he placed a tender kiss on John’s forehead to stop his body from trembling in need.

“If you moan or so as much utter a sound, I will refrain from pleasuring you for the rest of the night. Only when I remove the belt may you make any noise whatsoever. Is that understood?”

Nodding once more, John took a deep breath as he watched Sherlock smirk.

“Good. The safety word is ‘red.’”

“’Red’? Why ‘red’?”

“Because that will be the color of your skin once I’m through with you.” John blushed madly at that as Sherlock grinned in satisfaction at his words and ran the tip of the riding crop along his partner’s dick. Shivering at the feel of the leather on his area, John bit his lip as Sherlock slowly ran the material along his abdomen and upward. Running it along his mid section, chest, and resting at the base of his neck, John suppressed a growl. Sherlock’s grin dazzled in the dim light as the riding crop crawled up his neck and pressed against his jaw line, causing John to look upward and directly into Sherlock’s eyes. That lustful sheen had darkened his dusty orbs and Sherlock’s grin widened. 

Slowly vanishing from John’s view, Sherlock knew it was time to begin the main attraction. Kicking off his slippers, the sound of feet on floor sounded like pitter patters of a slow rainstorm. Each step made John’s heart throb achingly in knowing what he wanted and not knowing how this new sensation would feel.

From behind, Sherlock removed the worn, cotton belt from his robe. Dismissing the garment, it fell to the floor with a soft thud as Sherlock pressed against John’s back. His mouth left tender kisses starting from the shoulder and working their way to John’s ear. Biting his lower lip, John did his best not to moan or groan as his body writhed in the want to do so. Abiding by Sherlock’s rules was not often the easiest task and at times, he broke his boyfriend’s command. When they were first starting out, John would often be the one to break the rules and Sherlock would stay true to his word and end the session. Sometimes, Sherlock would be forgiving and allow the rules to be broken, knowing that they were still learning about each other and the various methods of sex and foreplay.

Wrapping the soft belt around John’s mouth, he bit into it as Sherlock tied it into a comfortable knot. John nodded his head to affirm that the mouth piece felt all right and that he would be able to yell ‘red’ if so needed.

“Bend.” Sherlock commanded and John obeyed without a moment’s notice. Hands running down John’s sides, Sherlock nibbled at his nape. John bit on the belt, suppressing moans into the fabric as he felt his boxers be removed by Sherlock’s needy hands in one swift motion. John’s body shuddered at the feeling of Sherlock’s hands feeling his firm ass while his tongue worked on the rather sensitive spot. Groping and kneading his fingers into John’s flesh, John buried his head into the comforter beneath his frame. Biting his ear lobe, Sherlock pulled back, leaving tender kisses down John’s spine.

Grasping the riding crop in his hand, Sherlock remembered the lessons. Don’t go too hard, start off with light swings and gradually go harder until they found a pace, don’t rush and go slow, his fingers reassured him that he was holding the grip properly. He had tested hitting the crop many times before on corpses and could judge when he was being too rough or too gentle. Staring at John’s ass, he swallowed hard, hoping that he wouldn’t harm John in what he was about to do. Drawing back the crop, Sherlock ran the tip of the crop against his partner’s arse, rubbing his tender flesh with the well worn leather. John’s fingers curled at the feeling as well as his toes, his body shivering with anticipation. Trembling at the feeling of leather, he hadn’t felt this material against his skin in a manner like this. It was foreign and taboo and now that he thought about it, he was rather surprised that Sherlock hadn’t donned himself in the stereotypical leather bondage. He never had. Perhaps it was too flashy for him and John mentally laughed to himself, knowing Sherlock would say that.

The smell of worn leather merging with John’s cologne and the candles made Sherlock’s dick expand as a thrilling sensation burst within him and started to weave its way throughout his body. It was warm like the candles’ flames and pulling the crop back, he watched his partner’s frame. He would not use the mid section of the crop; he would not go hard and ruthless with his smacks as he had done on cadavers unless John was all right with it. Sherlock would take it slow and steady; patience was important and having believed that phrase all his life, now was a time to act upon it. The crop whistled in the air as John’s ears perked up like an alerted dog and felt a light smack come in contact with his arse and caused his body to jolt in surprise. 

Sherlock listened for ‘red’ or any verbal sounds of protest as he was met with silence. Relief consumed him, but he still had to ask.

“Shall I continue?” Sherlock questioned, his smooth voice almost wavering with concern. John nodded, as though pursuing him to go harder in his endeavors.

Another smack, a little harder this time and John did not protest. Rather he bit the cloth between his teeth like a horse biting the grit. Another strike, a bit firmer and no resistance once more as Sherlock’s grin returned and curled deviously at his cheeks. Another strike, another, another, each harder than the last and John took it all without protest. The pleasurable pain reeling through his body like electricity and causing his slight erection to unfurl into a full hard on with every smack received by his crimson ass. John bit hard on the cloth, suppressing moans deep into the fabric and his throat. Christ, Sherlock knew how to handle the instrument and John wished he could unleash a string of groans to show his appreciation and need for his beloved. His body no longer tensed at the thwacks, but became adjusted to them as though they were something he had grown used to for many, many years. Another smack, another smack, another smack, Sherlock found himself surprised at the pain John could withstand. He was a strong individual, but he did have his breaking points like the others. Sherlock wouldn’t try using the crop yet on John’s genitalia, knowing how much more sensitive that area was when compared to the ass. There were marks already bursting on John’s arse, his skin raw from the inflicted pain and Sherlock could only imagine how much more hurtful the crop would be on his partner’s penis and balls. 

Another smack, John’s body buckled into the bed some and Sherlock stopped, having not seen that reaction before in this situation. Arching his eyebrow, Sherlock gave him another smack and watched his frame dip slowly into the bed. He was slowly being broken and Sherlock smirked, but also at the same time knew he had to stop before inflicting too much pain which would possibly lead to harmful intercourse. Placing the crop by John’s side, Sherlock leaned forward, pressing his erection against John’s reddened bottom. Sucking at his nape, John bit harder as he felt his partner’s area against his arse. Working his tongue over the sensitive spot, Sherlock slid his hand around to John’s abdomen and slowly drew his fingers downward. Stroking John’s shaft, he was stunned at how hard he had grown from the crop’s strikes. His fingers curled around the erection as Sherlock began to jerk it to the rhythm of John’s heart – quick and frantic, like a lion stuck in a cage wanting to be unleashed. He heard John suck back his moans and the fabric as it clenched tightly between his teeth. Sherlock grinned against his skin, nipping the nape. The other hand roamed downward, caressing his balls with his thumb wandering over to the tender flesh that connected shaft to balls and stroking hard. John’s fingers fumbled for something to grab of Sherlock’s to please, squeeze, and tease and when finding nothing, his shoulders rolled with irritation. Sherlock read his frustration and growled into his skin, working his dick hard like a sex starved man. His thumb brushed over the frenulum and John’s body shivered with want, his breath hitched and his back pressed tightly against Sherlock’s chest. Pre cum spilled onto Sherlock’s fingers as he smirked.

“Are you ready?” Sherlock whispered into John’s ear, running his slightly cum stained fingers up along the shaft. Nodding fiercely, John knew he was more than ready than he would ever be.

Pulling back, Sherlock licked the pre cum from his fingers and reached for a bottle of lotion on the nightstand. Soaking his fingers in the substance, he slowly slid them into John’s hole, stretching the area and making John’s fingers clench. His spine quaked at the sensation as he growled into the moist belt in his mouth. Sherlock’s hands pressed down into the mattress as he slowly slid his penis inside John who gasped with shock and bit the belt roughly. Thrusting slowly, Sherlock wasn’t sure if the pain of the crop smacks would influence a rather painful intercourse. Worried if he was hurting John, he knew John would have spoken by now if not protested. Concern consumed him and hurriedly reaching over, he undid the knot on the belt as it collapsed at John’s chest and from his mouth he unleashed a loud howl of pleasure. The sound made candlelight tremble and Sherlock’s eyes widen, not knowing such a roar slept within John as his heart fell silent. Reverberating against the walls, the ravaged noise seemed to stop time as Sherlock’s eyes widened, amazed by his partner.

Downstairs, Mrs. Hudson merrily smiled and continued sipping her tea in content. Not once would she ever bother them, especially with how the walls had ears and she had rather keen hearing despite her age. Besides, they were far more entertaining than the television.

“Fuck me, Sherlock.” John’s raspy, low voice murmured to Sherlock. “Fuck me hard.”

“Are you sure? You’re not in pain or-“

“FUCK ME , SHERLOCK!”

Well, the man did want to be fucked and roughly thrusting his cock deeper into John’s prostate, the man screamed in need. Sherlock didn’t know how he had suddenly gained such speed to satisfy his partner, but he utilized it to the best of his ability. John bit into the comforter, moaning loud and long as though he was a soldier who hadn’t had a good fuck in years. Pounding John’s ass relentlessly, John cried out in want. Sherlock’s heart thrummed in tune with his actions as he gripped the sheets, gaining balance. Every thrust caused John’s body to sink into the bed from Sherlock’s ferocious actions and John absorbed them all like a sponge. Burying his head into John’s nape, Sherlock groaned against his skin, sending tremors throughout the man’s body like electrical charges. Their bodies in tune with each other seemed to make their hearts hum in silence from beating so fast. Electrified nerves sent sparks of pleasure to the brain, the organ registering every single thrust and bite and moan and groan and somehow, amazingly, managing to keep up with the fast paced action. Thrusting harder, John groaned louder through the comforter, his sounds echoing throughout the bedroom as Sherlock joined him. His own animal tones broke through his dominant demeanor and merged with John’s receptive groans. Time seemed to slow at their rhythms, understanding passion was never meant to be rushed regardless of the circumstances.

“Christ, Sherlock!”

Faster, harder, he pumped John good and well and John took it with every second. Sherlock went as fast as humanly possible, pleasure filling both men in their time of need. Breaking off from the comforter, John pressed his forehead into the bed, still yelling and crying out in ecstasy. Sherlock howled with those lusty mannerisms and gripped John’s hips, bringing his hips and body back onto his dick, causing a much deeper penetration. John allowed him, both filling the room with their groans of desire, their own music to a rather passionate evening.

“Sherlock, I’m-“

John came hard, the orgasm rippling through his cock and upward, wrapping his body in an electrical charge of pleasure. Sherlock followed just after, receiving his own spark of satisfaction that wove through his body and made him cry out. Their final notes of ecstasy drifted through the room and seemingly brought time to its senses, returning it to normal. The ticking of the clock was the only sound that echoed throughout the room other than their heavy panting. Time didn’t matter to either man as they felt their pleasurable charges fray and fizzle into the confines of their bones and brains. The aftermath of their sexual high still buzzed in their brain as they slowly came down from it and focused on reality once more. 

Slowly removing himself from John, Sherlock’s fingers fumbled to remove the cuffs that now made crimson rings around John’s wrists. As both men dragged themselves into a comfortable position, Sherlock threw the cuffs across the room as they landed on his bureau with a loud clunk. Resting his head against the headboard, he felt John collapse against his body. The shorter man’s anatomy felt like melted butter; so warm but so loose from the activity that had just ensued. Sherlock smiled and wrapped his jell-o like arm around him and kissed his forehead. 

“We need to do that more.” John softly spoke up, burying his head into the crook of Sherlock’s neck.

“We will. We most definitely will.” Sherlock responded in the same tone as his eyes fixed on the dying candles. Their scent still submerged the room and bathed the boyfriends in a faint warm light. Sherlock sighed in content and reclined into the bed with his beloved John by his side. He dared not disturb him as he slowly started to fall asleep and reaching over the best he could, Sherlock began to extinguish the candles with a mere, gentle breath.


End file.
